


Jealous Without You

by 2Wardens1Blight



Series: Home is Where my Friends are [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, M/M, NO IW SPOILERS, Post Captain America Civil War, Tony Needs a Hug, coming to terms, not anti-cap, past tony/steve - Freeform, pre ironstrange, pre iw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Wardens1Blight/pseuds/2Wardens1Blight
Summary: Tony visits Steve's old room and faces feelings he's still coming to terms with.WOW I haven't written a fic in a while. PRE IRONSTRANGE Not Beta-written RATING MAY CHANGE





	Jealous Without You

_I'm jealous of the rain_  
_That falls upon your skin_  
_It's closer than my hands have been_  
_I'm jealous of the rain_  
_I'm jealous of the wind_  
_That ripples through your clothes_  
_It's closer than your shadow_  
_Oh, I'm jealous of the wind_

 

There was a silence that permeated the air of the Avengers compound. When Tony breathed it seemed almost criminal, disturbing the stillness that has soaked into every walls of the once bustling _home._ Still, he can’t seem to leave this room. The one that seemed the emptiest.

 

This was Steve’s room.

 

Although he knows that the stubborn man was safe, wherever he was, he couldn’t help but mourn him as though he were dead and gone.

 _He may as well be dead,_ a bitter voice in the back of Tony’s mind piped up; _he’s dead to you._ Angry, Tony shook the thought out of his mind and slammed his fist down onto the desk in the corner of the room.

 

If he concentrated, he could smell the whispers of leftover graphite and crisp paper. In his mind’s eye he could see a hunched over Steve, sitting at the desk with a serene look of concentration on his face.

 

The thought made his heart swim in his stomach. The look on his memory of Steve’s face is a mirror image to the man himself. His skin was unblemished, blonde lashes hanging low over ocean blue eyes. The scratch of pencil on paper seemed to pull his lips into a small smile, without his knowing. Tony knew that in this particular memory, he was sketching a rough portrait of Natasha attempting to teach Bruce to spar in hand-to-hand, much to the chagrin of Bruce himself. Tony had laughed a hearty belly laugh when Steve showed him the finished sketches. He had refined their features from memory, with Bruce actually pouting as Natasha bent forward in laughter above the man sprawled on the ground. She was never scared that he would get angry enough to lash out and hurt her. Their carefree nature was… greatly missed.

 

They used to be so happy. Flawed, but happy. Ever since he had gotten the arc reactor removed from his chest and realized that he and Pepper were better suited to friendship status than the status of lovers, he had thrown himself headfirst into the building of the Avengers. His new meaning. His new family.

The Accords stripped him of his hard-earned semblance of peace. It was so _infuriating._ Steve seemed to not understand that he wanted them to be _safe._

No matter how he worded his thoughts to the man, he heard nothing of it. Steve must have been a stubborn little shit before the serum, because as everything was amplified his stubbornness soared above even his sense of justice itself.

His eyes blurred, and he jumped in surprise as a tear fell onto the desk.

 

He had loved him. And stupidly enough, he believed that Steve loved him back. Perhaps he did, with small smiles and hushed kisses shared between the two in small hallways and in between mission briefings. He had caught a blushing Steve Rogers sketching him one morning, the sheets twisted and sunlight filtering through the windows.

 

That voice in his mind was warring with him, saying things like _you still love him_ and _you were only there to fill the void that Barnes left._

His chest was tight, and he placed his hand over where the arc reactor used to rest. The scars were gnarled in his skin, but his heart beat steady and there was no shrapnel trying to kill him.

 

The room was empty, but traces of Steve’s presence remained. His art supplies lay forgotten in the storage area Tony had put in for them to stay safe and organized, always an arm’s reach away from the artist’s itching fingers. Steve had begun drawing more and more as he became comfortable in the compound with their rag-tag group of superhero rascals.

 

But this wasn’t Steve’s home anymore. He had chosen to leave, to run from the law instead of accepting limits to attempt to ensure some form of pacifier for the damage that protecting the Earth seemed to call for.

 

Tony knew it was flawed. He knew it needed work. But the look in the eyes of Damien Sharpe’s mother as she told him _“This is my son. This is what he looks like. And you killed him”_ rang in his ears as he fought with Steve. The Accords were a sharp knife wedged between them.

 

And then there was Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes.

 

He killed his mother and father. Fucking Howard Stark didn’t need pity. He was a shitty father. He wasn’t a villain, but Tony could’ve handled his father dying. But his _mother._ Maria Stark was the light in his dark and alcohol-blurred tunnel. Where his father was cold and expectant, his mother was warm and forgiving. She didn’t deserve to die.

 

Tony has fought with himself over this discovery. He feels betrayed by the man he thought he loved. He chose Bucky. In more ways than one.

 

_“He’s my friend, Tony.”_

_“So was I.”_

The look on Steve’s face looked like a man starving. He was desperate. The thought churns Tony’s stomach even more. He can’t stand to think that the look that Steve gave him reflected more than what he said.

 

_…I love you_

_But I love him more._

_Don't make me choose_

_Don't make me do this_

Tony imagines that wherever Steve is, Bucky is the one that hold his hand in the morning. The one he gets protective over, even if he can handle himself. Bucky is the one he whispers to, stupid and cheesy one-liners and small flattery that leads to more kisses in hushed embraces.

 

It had taken Tony a long time to forgive them. He may never forgive them completely, but his stubborn conscience tells him that he can’t hate them forever.

Bucky was tortured beyond what Tony thinks he can imagine. He was turned into a machine meant to kill and report. And Steve…

Steve had loved Bucky for more years than Tony had lived.

Their private shows of affection, their kisses and small smiles weren’t any less real. But to have someone torn from you as Bucky was torn from Steve, only to be dangled in front of him again, so close he could reach forward and brush his fingers across a cold, metal arm…

 

Tony hated Steve. He hated that he couldn’t hate him as much as he wanted to. He hated that he loved him.

He hated that he wasn’t enough for yet another person in his life.

 

Tony steeled himself and decided that it was time to leave the room behind. He looked into his palm, where a simple flip-phone rested. A phone with only one contact.

As he turned to leave the room, he pocketed the phone.

 

_But I always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was_  
_Heartbreak and misery_  
_It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way_  
_You're happy without me_

**Author's Note:**

> Song is Jealous by Labrinth  
> I am rusty as hell at writing forgive meeeeee
> 
> This is a short that begins the "Home is Where my Friends are" universe, Part 2 has been uploaded. Part 2 will be multi-chapter.  
> Can be read alone but I would love for you to follow my series!
> 
> This fic will end with IronStrange and it may become part of an emotional domestic series with all the Avengers living happily ever after because FUCK YOU INFINITY WAR


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